Chapter Text
The black-footed cat is one of the smallest feline species, and also one of the deadliest hunters. Despite its adorable appearance and weighing under two kilograms, it could hunt prey four times its size, its sharp teeth more than capable of tearing through their throats.
Kim Jongin carried black-footed cat genes, and he exhibited many similar traits. He had delicate features and a slender build, but possessed enough strength to leap effortlessly onto high walls. His eyes were sharp like a black-footed cat's as well, blessed with exceptional night vision. Even in complete darkness, he could use a sniper rifle to put a bullet through a target's skull without breaking a sweat.
Jongin is an A-rank agent in a government-funded agency. His base salary was generous before the annual bonuses. Though, he had a habit of spending absurd amounts of money on merch for his favorite characters and he’d regularly ask his captain for food and supplies without the slightest bit of shame.
As for why Jongin possessed black-footed cat genes in the first place, the answer was simple. His mother carried them. Before her, his grandmother had carried them too. Trace it back even further, and it all led to the apocalypse a thousand years ago. An alien virus had swept across the globe, killing two-thirds of the population. The survivors had undergone mutations, their bodies randomly integrating animal genes. They began exhibiting distinct traits, and some developed uncontrollable rutting or heat cycles, similar to those of wild animals. Those mutations became hereditary, passing from one generation to the next. Afterward, the remaining 2.5 billion people formed four separate nations. Jongin is a citizen of the East, a country populated primarily by mammalian gene carriers.
Late one night, Jongin lay motionless on a rooftop. The autumn wind howled overhead, but he barely blinked as he stared through the scope of his rifle at a large man in an expensive suit attending a banquet.
This was his target, a judge notorious for corruption and bribery.
Jongin waited for the man to approach a window with a wine glass in hand. The moment his target stepped into position, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet shattered the glass and pierced the man's temple. It exited through the opposite side of his head, spraying a trail of blood into the air.
The judge hit the floor with a heavy thud, and shrieks instantly filled the banquet hall. Ignoring the chaos, Jongin packed away his sniper rifle and left the rooftop at a brisk pace.
Downstairs, a young man in a leather jacket leaned against a motorbike, smoking. Upon seeing Jongin, he put out his cigarette, took the weapon, and started his bike.
Watching him disappear into the night, Jongin pulled on a cap and reversed his black jacket, revealing the colorful pattern on the other side. Then he slipped into the night market without drawing attention to himself.
Though he was still young, Jongin already owned two properties in the city. One was a luxury apartment, and the other was a small studio.
The apartment existed solely to house his ever-growing collection of figurines, posters, badges, and other merch. Jongin would rather suffer himself than make his beloved characters endure cramped conditions.
After returning home, he headed for the shower and came out with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His toned upper body remained bare as he dropped into his gaming chair beside the desk.
Cracking open a can of beer from the fridge, he took a sip while activating the encrypted communication channel connected to his division.
A man in his early thirties soon appeared on the monitor. It was Jongin's captain, and also the deputy director of the division. Kim Junmyeon, a carrier of the arctic hare gene.
The moment Junmyeon saw him, his brows knitted together, "Put some clothes on."
Jongin shrugged, "Don’t feel like it."
He had just gotten out of the shower. The studio was warm, and wearing pajamas now would make him sweat.
Junmyeon shook his head helplessly and adjusted the camera angle.
The screen zoomed out, and only then did Jongin realize that his colleagues were standing behind Junmyeon.
Hearing the giggles and whistles, Jongin demonstrated the reflexes expected of a feline gene carrier and vanished beneath his desk. Seconds later, he reappeared on screen wearing an oversized shirt. The disappointment on everyone's faces was impossible to miss.
Junmyeon cleared his throat and moved past the interruption.
"Jongin, I know you just finished your latest assignment, and you were supposed to get a few days off. But the headquarters issued an emergency S-ranked mission, and they specifically requested you.”
“Me?” Jongin blinked. “I’m only an A-rank. Shouldn't the mission go to someone with an S-rank?"
"I'll explain that later. I want you to take a look at the target file I sent you first."
Jongin nodded and pulled it up on his screen. The first thing he saw was a photo, and the man in it was absurdly gorgeous. Black hair, fair skin, and features so flawless they looked as though God had sculpted them. The photo had clearly been taken without the man's knowledge. His gaze was directed somewhere in the distance, his expression cold, carrying an air of sternness.
"Oh Sehun," The surname felt strangely familiar, though Jongin couldn't quite place it.
"Twenty-eight years old. Carrier of black mamba genes…" His eyes widened at the next thing he saw. “You want me to assassinate the Grand Duke from the West? Wouldn’t that start a war?"
Junmyeon looked equally miserable, "Your guess is as good as mine. We're just following orders."
The West was mostly populated by cold-blooded gene carriers: snakes, lizards, crocodiles, and the like.
They were practically the natural enemies of soft, fluffy mammals, so the relation between East and West wasn’t exactly friendly, but they weren't openly hostile either. Junmyeon couldn't understand why the headquarters had assigned such a dangerous mission.
"The Grand Duke will be attending an underground pet auction next Saturday. You'll sneak into the event, get close to him, and remain in position while awaiting further instructions."
"An underground pet auction?" Jongin frowned. "What kind of pet needs to be auctioned off?"
The moment the words left his mouth, realization struck.
"It’s not…that kind of pet, is it?"
Junmyeon rubbed his temple, “Exactly that. Now do you understand why they picked you?”
The division’s S-rank agents were all towering men, strong build with murderous expressions. If they were made to wear collars and sent onto an auction stage in cute outfits, what customer would dare bid on them? It would be a miracle if they managed not to tear the place down.
Among the A-rank agents, Jongin was the only one who had both exceptional combat skills and a face pretty enough to sell. And as a result, the mission had landed on his shoulders.
The captain’s intention could not have been more obvious. He was supposed to play the role of a “pet,” seduce the Grand Duke, and get himself purchased.
Jongin muttered his resentment in his head, but he wasn't brave enough to say any of it aloud in front of his direct superior. Defeated, he slumped back in his chair.
“Alright, send me the mission briefing.”
The auction would take place on the third underground floor of Aurora. It was scheduled to begin at midnight the following Saturday.
The event wasn't just a pet auction. It was also a masquerade ball attended by nobles, tycoons, and other members of the elite.
The division had already bribed the Grand Duke’s personal designer and obtained details about the mask he would be wearing that night, making him easier to identify in the crowd.
At the same time, they had prepared a fabricated identity for Jongin.
Jongin read through the file displayed on his screen.
“Nini. Twenty-one years old. Abandoned by his parents at an orphanage during childhood. Due to his attractive appearance, he later fell into the red-light district and was purchased by the owner of Aurora before being put up for auction...”
“Wait,” Jongin paused. “The owner of this hotel must be a pretty important figure, right? They managed to bribe him too?”
Junmyeon nodded, “This file came from the higher-ups. I’d assume so.”
Jongin didn't think much more about it and continued reading.
The fabricated identity overlapped with his real life to a certain extent. He was indeed an orphan. Not because he'd been abandoned, but because his parents had passed shortly after he was born and he was raised by his grandmother.
After the elderly woman passed away as well, he refused to enter an orphanage. Instead, he'd drifted through the streets and tried his best to keep himself alive. As he grew older, he fell in with local delinquents and learned all the wrong lessons, eventually graduating to picking tourists' pockets.
Though, less than a month after his eighteenth birthday, he'd chosen the wrong target. He tried to steal Junmyeon's wallet and was caught red-handed.
Instead of reporting him to the police, Junmyeon felt he possessed the natural talent of a top agent and recruited him into the division.
“An IQ of 70?” Jongin scowled. “How would I make that believable?”
“That’s the reason your fake profile says your parents abandoned you,” Junmyeon explained. “Besides, mild intellectual disability lowers a target’s guard. Think about it. If there was someone pretty and innocent by your side, would you suspect him of being an assassin?”
“I don’t know about this.”
“You can do it, Jongin,” Junmyeon slipped into the tone of a parent coaxing a stubborn child. “Complete this mission and you'll get a nice vacation and pay. Your flight has already been arranged, and you’ll be leaving on Monday.”
🐾
Three days later, Jongin arrived in the capital city of the West on a private flight.
The moment he stepped out of the airport, several burly men surrounded him, forming what felt like a solid wall. They were here to pick him up.
After about two hours, he was escorted into Aurora, which was reputed to be the most luxurious hotel in the world.
Jongin quietly surveyed his surroundings. The towering silver window frames curved in elegant artistic arcs. The bulletproof glass was sealed shut, and as far as he could tell, the only exit was the door through which he'd entered.
The owner of Aurora is Lee Taemin and he looked far younger than Jongin had expected. He wore a black suit paired with a burgundy dress shirt underneath. There was no tie. The top buttons remained undone, exposing a glimpse of collarbone.
Taemin lounged on a sofa while studying Jongin from head to toe.
“Your appearance is acceptable,” He picked up a black riding crop from the coffee table and gestured it at Jongin. “But that expression needs work.”
“What expression?”
“The one you're wearing right now,” Taemin hummed. “What, taking this mission put you in a bad mood?”
Without waiting for an answer, he nodded to himself, “Fair enough. Assassinating the Grand Duke isn’t easy and there’s no guarantee you'll make it back alive. It'd be stranger if you were happy about it.”
Jongin's expression darkened, “I'm not afraid of dying.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say,” Taemin used the riding crop to lift Jongin's chin and studied his face. “But you still need to change that attitude, or no one is going to buy you.”
Annoyed, Jongin snatched the crop out of his hand and snapped it in half.
“Enough of that,” He tossed the broken pieces onto the floor. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Right, sorry,” Taemin took a minute to recover from his shock. “First of all, stop looking so aggressive, and don’t grab things from people. You’re not expected to be seductive, but at the very least, you need to act obedient. I’ll trust your professionalism.”
He stood and gestured toward the door, “Go get some rest. A room has already been prepared for you.”
Jongin eyed him. He wanted to know why Taemin, a citizen of the West, was helping him, let alone assisting in a mission to assassinate his country’s Grand Duke. But he never asked. Those were matters for people far above his status. He had neither the authority nor the curiosity to get involved.
🐾
Jongin stayed at the hotel for a few days, going through the material Junmyeon had given him. He usually complained when there was too much to read, but when it came to missions, he always took them seriously and didn’t want to make a single mistake.
And just like that, Saturday night arrived.
The third underground floor of Aurora was an entire luxury ballroom, even more lavish and elegant than the floors above. White classical Roman columns supported the high ceiling, while countless crystal chandeliers spread outward like blooming petals. Draped fabrics embedded with diamonds and pearls hung from above, dividing the hall into several distinct spaces.
One wall of the ballroom was a giant aquarium, filled with vividly colored tropical fish gliding through the water. The designer had cleverly used it to compensate for the lack of windows underground, and beside it were VIP seats with an excellent view of the auction stage.
The auction had already begun. The host escorted a beautifully dressed young man onto the stage. Jongin was number three and had not yet been called, so he stayed hidden behind the curtains, peering through a gap to observe the situation outside.
He was wearing only a white shirt that covered his shorts. Thin, slightly sheer, and two sizes too large. The sleeves had to be rolled up to reveal his wrists, and the hem hung loosely over his thighs, concealing any suggestive outline in shadow.
It was recommended by Taemin. He said Jongin’s greatest asset was his clean, innocent appearance, and that any extravagant jewelry would only be unnecessary. A loose white shirt alone was enough.
Still, Taemin had added a black collar around his neck, an emblem of conquest and desire. In Taemin’s overly poetic description, it was a perfectly placed finishing touch, like a red rose blooming on white snow.
Jongin didn’t care about any of that. He only cared about its practicality. The collar had been modified from a mic, embedded with a miniature listening device that Junmyeon communicate to him with.
Jongin slipped aside the curtain and glanced toward the VIP section, “I see the target.”
A man in a tailored suit sat on the sofa, wearing a black-and-gold snake-pattern mask that covered his eyes. His posture was upright and composed, his presence unmistakably imposing. Black leather gloves covered his hands, and a long dress cane rested beside him, topped with a polished green cat’s-eye stone.
He was the highest-ranking person in the room. Guests frequently approached him with respectful deference, and he responded briefly before dismissing them, seemingly uninterested in the meaningless social exchanges of the elite.
Junmyeon’s voice came through the collar, “Don’t do anything yet. Wait until your turn to go on stage.”
The first ‘pet’ sold for a high price. He was led offstage with a radiant smile, immediately falling into the arms of the person who had the highest bid for him.
That amount of money was something Jongin probably couldn’t earn in a lifetime. He felt a faint sting of envy, then shifted his gaze back to the Grand Duke. That was when he noticed the man had stood up, as if preparing to leave.
“He’s leaving,” Jongin said quickly. “He won’t wait for my turn. Should we change the plan?”
“Alright, execute Plan B. Have Taemin coordinate support,” Junmyeon instructed.
“Understood.”
In the VIP section, Sehun removed his snake-pattern mask, revealing a cold, expressionless face. He dismissed the guests attempting to engage him in conversation and picked up his cane, preparing to leave the ballroom.
Just then, a commotion erupted near the stage. Guests turned in curiosity, and Sehun glanced over as well when a figure stumbled to him and crashed into his arms.
The Grand Duke looked down and met gaze with a pair of eyes that were wide and misty with tears.
Jongin clutched at his suit tightly, trembling with fear, “Please help me, mister…I’m scared…”
Meanwhile, two guards in black suits rushed out, “There he is! Don’t let him escape!”
They grabbed Jongin’s arms roughly, trying to drag him away.
Jongin panicked, too frightened to do anything and only managed to cling desperately to Sehun, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed, “I…I don’t want to be hit anymore…it hurts…”
A scowl from Sehun made the guards release Jongin and retreat a step.
Sehun placed a gentle hand on Jongin’s back, steadying him as he turned to Taemin, “I was told everyone here came willingly.”
Even though it was all part of the act, Taemin still felt a chill under that gaze and quickly explained, “Your Grace, it’s not what you think. He’s…a little different and not like others. I sincerely apologize for disturbing you.”
“Hurry up and take him away,” He told the guards.
Jongin immediately broke down again. He collapsed to the floor and clung tightly to Sehun’s leg.
“I don’t want to go back, mister…They hit me…I want to go home…”
Sehun stared at Jongin for a bit. Then, without a word, he bent and lifted him into his arms.
Jongin instinctively wrapped his arms around Sehun’s neck, his soft hair brushing against the other’s cheek like a stray cat seeking shelter.
“I’ll take him. I don’t care how much you were planning to sell him for. I’ll pay double.”
Taemin shook his head, smiling widely, “How could I possibly ask for payment from you? Your presence here is already an honor beyond measure. Consider this little kitten a gift. You may take him. I’ll send over his handling instructions shortly.”
Sehun gave a small nod. Carrying Jongin, he walked out of the ballroom under the stunned gazes of the guests.
🐾
They were greeted by crisp autumn night air the moment they left the hotel.
Three identical black armored sedans were parked outside the entrance. Two bodyguards stood beside each vehicle, pistols concealed beneath their suit jackets. The driver of the middle car opened the rear door. Even though the Grand Duke was carrying a pretty young man in his arms, no one dared look twice.
Inside the car, Jongin curled on Sehun's lap, clinging to his hand as though it were a lifeline. Any time Sehun moved even slightly, Jongin would let out a frightened whimper and tighten his grip.
"Don't..." He mumbled. "Please don't throw me away..."
In the end, Sehun could only allow him to keep holding on.
The accompanying bodyguard in the front passenger seat was holding a tablet, its screen casting a faint white glow through the dark space.
A notification appeared.
"Your Grace," He called quietly, "Mr. Lee Taemin has sent over the pet profile and care guidelines. Would you like to review them now?"
Sehun attempted to reach for the tablet, but the pretty little thing attached to him made it impossible to sit up properly.
"Read it to me."
"Yes, sir. He only has a nickname, Nini. He’s twenty-one and he was abandoned by his parents at age three due to an intellectual disability. He later drifted into the red-light district before ending up in Mr. Lee’s care."
"And his heat cycle?"
"It has no fixed schedule. It can be triggered by external stimuli and it’s very unstable."
"Does he have any other relatives? Find somewhere else for him as soon as possible."
"According to the records, he has no surviving relatives. Perhaps we could arrange placement at a care facility?"
Jongin lifted his head at that and looked up at Sehun pitifully. His lower lip trembled, as though he might burst into tears again at any second.
Sehun pressed a hand against his temple and sighed, "Forget it. We'll deal with it later."
Jongin relaxed and settled back onto Sehun's lap, remaining still as the car glided smoothly through the night.
The gentle motion of the vehicle gave him plenty of time to review everything he knew about the Grand Duke in his mind.
Ever since the founding of the West, the country had maintained a strict hereditary monarchy. There were several dukes within the kingdom, but Sehun was unquestionably the most influential, the wealthiest, and the most powerful among them.
He shared direct blood ties with the reigning King. His cousin is the Crown Prince, and Sehun possesses the authority to intervene in matters of state. However, he rarely attended the events, apparently having little patience for the empty formalities of the nobles and elites.
He owned many large estates across the country. He had personally founded numerous companies spanning real estate, mining, and various other industries. He had also invested heavily in medical research institutions, several of which had produced remarkable breakthroughs.
The Grand Duke even maintained a private military force. Officially, it’s a security division. Unofficially, its scale appeared far larger than that.
His methods were infamously ruthless. He had overseen the destruction of numerous criminal groups and terrorist organizations. Rather than relying on modern executions, he favored older methods. Several notorious leaders had been publicly hanged under his orders, their bodies left on display as a warning to others.
Because of these brutal tactics, public opinion toward him was sharply divided. Everything Jongin knew came from the mission files. Based on those reports, the Grand Duke seemed strict and merciless, but not necessarily a bad person. Which meant the order to assassinate him was likely motivated by national interests.
Of course, there was always the possibility that Sehun was actually a monster hiding behind a respectable facade. There was no shortage of people like that in the world. Well-dressed gentlemen on the surface, devils underneath, capable of acts that would make demons from hell ashamed.
Jongin gradually felt sleepiness creeping in. His eyelids grew heavier, and he allowed his body to relax, but he didn't dare to fall asleep.
After a while, the car slowly came to a stop and the driver stepped out to open Sehun's door. Jongin jerked upright as though startled awake, blinking and looking around in confusion.
Sehun reached over and lightly ruffled his hair.
"Don't be afraid," He said quietly. "We're home."
Jongin turned toward the open door and promptly froze in shock. He had assumed he'd be taken to a mansion, or perhaps one of the Grand Duke’s many estates.
Instead, what stood before him was an enormous castle.
For a moment, he felt as though he had been transported into a fairy tale.
The castle retained a traditional Baroque style, filled with statues and artistically designed round windows. Tourists visiting the area seemed to treat the castle as a famous landmark, as many took photos with it in the background.
Jongin wanted to pull out his phone and take pictures too, but he didn’t have it on him. And more importantly, it didn't fit his cover identity.
“Come,” Sehun gently took his wrist and led him inside.
Waiting in the castle is the head housekeeper, a capable and sharp-minded woman in her mid-thirties. She had already been informed that a special guest would be arriving.
Stepping forward, she bowed, "The guest room has been prepared, sir."
“No need. He needs someone to look after him. For the next few days, he'll stay with me."
The housekeeper didn’t understand. There are sixty professionally trained workers in the castle, surely one of them is capable of caring for a young man with an intellectual disability.
Still, she wisely kept those thoughts to herself and after a small bow, she took her leave.